Fat Salaat

I’m clumsy and awkward 
When I pray. 
Can’t stand or sit 
As I am meant to, 
Nor get down 
To the ground 
To prostrate. 

My body doesn’t fold 
Neatly like an origami 
Muslimah in sajdah. 
I sit up too high, 
Spread too wide, 
Don’t have legs 
Neatly tucked aside. 

But like the breath 
Of a fasting person can 
Stink to high heaven 
For a fellow being 
While in High Heaven itself 
Be regarded a musk, 
Perhaps my heavy 
Undignified 
And unbefitting 
Yet sincere worship 
Is seen up there 
As possessing the 
Delicate elegance 
Of a graceful gazelle.